Amy leaned forward and took the woman’s hand. “How terrible. Do you have any idea who this person is?”
Mrs. Burrows shook her head. “No. Mr. Harding never had anyone else with him each time I met with him. What is so distressing is what I’m being blackmailed for is something I had no control over. I’m just glad I was able to escape without having it held over my head.”
“Mrs. Burrows, I would like you to know that we ask these questions of you not out of some sort of morbid curiosity or because we want to do you some harm, but as my friend Lord Wethington mentioned during our last visit, he is the one the police are convinced was Mr. Harding’s killer.”
Mrs. Burrows drew in a deep breath. “How terrible for him.” She shook her head. “I can tell just by looking at his lordship that he would never do something like that.”
Although Amy enjoyed the woman’s confidence in William’s innocence, her statement was borne more out of emotion than fact, since she knew nothing about William.
“I appreciate your faith in Lord Wethington. However, the police don’t seem to agree.”
Mrs. Burrows handed the two hats to Amy along with a slip of paper stating the total price for the merchandise. Usually Amy had bills sent to her house for payment, but since she had not set up an account with this store, she fumbled in her reticule to come up with the needed money.
Almost as if reading her mind, Mrs. Burrows said, “I will be happy to open an account for you and send a bill.”
“I would like to set up an account, actually—I really do love your work. But I have the money with me today to pay.” Amy placed the coins on the table.
She rose to leave, happy, both with her hats and with the friendship she’d made with the woman. “Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Burrows, and I will be back to buy more hats and hopefully let you know Lord Wethington and I have been successful and your concerns about blackmailing have ended.” She moved toward the door.
What I’m being blackmailed for I had no control over.
The words kept repeating in her mind. If Amy could find out why the two women were being blackmailed, it might help in their investigation. Especially now that someone had the records and knew their secrets.
“God bless you,” Mrs. Burrows said, as Amy opened the door, the light tinkle of the bell ringing in her ears.
After a slight pause, Amy said, “Mrs. Burrows, do you by chance know a Miss Gertrude O’Neill?”
Mrs. Burrows’s eyes grew wide. “Gertie? Oh goodness, don’t tell me she’s being blackmailed too.”
* * *
William rose in the morning with a sense of excitement, feeling that very shortly something great would happen in their investigation. The ride he’d taken the day before on Major had done a lot to clear his mind. He’d purposely avoided places he would meet people he knew, as he wanted time to think and see if he could make sense of what they had so far.
His first order of business after his valet shaved and prepared him for the day was a hearty breakfast to begin what he hoped would be the last of the investigation into Harding’s death.
The clue he’d received from his own mother that Patrick Whitney was an actor, and a fine one at that, had immediately given him hope that the illness and grieving Patrick had presented were an act, merely his way of giving himself an alibi for when Harding was killed.
His acting might also have been a way for him to pass himself off as a messenger or some other sort of daily worker in order to gain access to his house and Amy’s house.
William hated to think so, but it was conceivable that Patrick had killed Mrs. Johnson also, if he’d thought she was going to hinder his alibi. He must have been one of the people sitting in the corner at the pub the night he and Amy visited and Mrs. Johnson told them to meet her the next day.
It was possible that Patrick had indeed been enraged at the thievery committed by Harding with his stepmother’s trust. However, since he was friends with Mrs. Johnson, it wouldn’t have been too difficult for him to learn about Harding’s other nefarious activities and his habit of collecting from his victims at the King’s Garden. Kill the man; step into his shoes as a blackmailer. To do that, he would have needed to get his hands on the ledger.
If what William had begun to put together was true, it would have been Patrick who broke into Harding’s home before them and attempted to steal the ledger, then shot at them.
William greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek and took a seat across from her. “You are looking lovely this morning.” He added toast, eggs, kippers, bacon, and beans to his plate. Excitement at the possibility that he would soon hand the true killer over to the police had spurred his mood and appetite.
“And you are quite cheerful yourself.” She beamed at him. “I have the menu worked out for our dinner party. I would be pleased to have you review it to make sure there isn’t anything that our guests would not enjoy.”
The dinner party.
The devil take it. He’d been so busy the last few days meeting with his barrister, solicitor, and man of business as well as trying to clear his name as a suspect that he’d forgotten about the blasted dinner party.
“If you will place it on my desk, I promise upon my return later today I will look it over. As soon as I finish breakfast, I am off again.”
“My, you are certainly busy these days. I hope you can clear up that murder nonsense before the dinner party.”
William almost laughed. His mother wasn’t concerned that he was a suspect in two murders—only in how it would affect her dinner party. “I am trying my best, Mother.”